


Imago Ever After

by kmo



Series: Imago Salon [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Everybody Lives, F/M, Missing Scene, ask box ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmo/pseuds/kmo
Summary: A series of ficlets and missing scenes from the Imago Salon & Spa 'verse.





	1. Chapter 1

Hannibal sweeps through her front door nearly an hour and half later than she was expecting. It is still strange to her to have someone come in to her home without ringing the doorbell, but she gave him a key after only a few weeks of dating without much of a second thought. He is scowling as he shakes the rain from his umbrella and hangs his jacket in the foyer closet.

He rushes up to her and offers her a brief kiss; she can still taste little droplets of rain there. “I am so sorry. Today was a very hectic day at the salon. Abigail double-booked two of my afternoon clients. And the cross town traffic was atrocious.” His expression is agitated, the tension hangs around his eyes and cheekbones in a way that reminds her of a bowstring about to snap.

Bedelia thinks of the evening they had planned—dinner out at a new tapas bar followed by a foreign film they had both looked forward to seeing. “It’s too late for dinner, but we could still make the movie.”

His face falls a little and she can tell he is plastering on a fake smile for her benefit. “If that’s what you would like.”

It pains her to see him like this. She slips her hands about his waist and snuggles against his chest until he lets out a relaxed sigh, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Or, we could order take out and have a night in.”

He kisses the top of her forehead and her desire to be anywhere but inside his arms evaporates. “I like that plan better.”

“Chinese?” she suggests. “There’s a decent place close by that delivers.”

“Sounds perfect. You can order for me.”

Reluctantly, she removes herself from the warmth of his arms to go hunt for the take-out menu she keeps stuffed in a kitchen drawer like a guilty secret. “There’s a rosé chilling in the fridge—why don’t you open it while I order? You look like you could use a glass.”

Bedelia orders them the Vegetarian Delight and the Firecracker Beef that she always seems to be powerless to resist along with some spring rolls. She joins Hannibal in her sitting room where he is waiting for her with two glasses of wine. 

“Something pink,” he toasts with her.

He sets aside his wine and tries to cuddle her on the sofa, frowning when the stiff upholstery keeps poking him in the back. “Your sofa was not made for snuggling, Doctor.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t.” Her home is vast by most standards, with high ceilings and multiple bedrooms, even an indoor pool. But no matter its size, it had been a home for one, filled with patients who came and went but never anyone who stayed. Hannibal’s presence always managed to underscore that fact. She slides off the sofa and pats the space on the carpet beside her. “Come join me,” she tells him.

With an impish smile he does, kicking off his shoes and wrapping an arm snug about her shoulders. She leans against him and kisses him deeply until the tension leaves his jaw and he begins to relax. Bedelia tentatively runs her fingers through the hair above his ears, pressing and soothing, as he had often done for her.

“That’s my job,” he tells her, but turns and rests his head against her to give her better access.

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” She teases the back of his nape with her forefinger, stroking him until he purrs, before taking his head in her hands and massaging his scalp from the crown on down until she can feel the stress melt away. His hair is as silky as her own and she delights in contrast between the long strands near the front and the short tapered back. It’s very intimate, more intimate than she ever though she could be with anyone.

He moans and arches his back a little; his head brushes her breasts and she can see a hint of a smirk.

“You find this very pleasurable, too, Hannibal.”

“Not as pleasurable as you do…but yes.” He brings her hand to his lips and kisses it. “Thank you.”

She holds him there, just the two of them, sitting together on the floor and it’s the happiest she’s ever been. He stirs a bit and grasps her hand tightly and she wonders if he is feeling the same way.

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

He shakes his head. “You will think it foolish. Reckless.”

“Try me.”

“I like coming home to you. I want to come home to you every night and wake beside you every morning.” He turns to her, eyes so warm it feels like he could melt her down with his love. “I know we promised to take things slowly, but I don’t want to.”

“But…my house…and your condo…”

“I’ll sell my condo. I can move here, I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

She thinks about her odd house with all its empty rooms. Hannibal has no place here. A tear springs to her eye; it’s time to let that life go. “Yes,” she says, heart swelling in a rush. “Yes, I want to be with you, too. We’ll find a place…and start a new life. Together.”

He sweeps her up in his arms and kisses her over and over until she breathlessly reminds him that the delivery boy will be here any minute and if he catches them _en flagrante_ she’ll never be able to order from Shanghai Garden again.


	2. missing scene-Bedelia post chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this takes place after the end of chapter 2, when Hannibal turned down Bedelia’s invite to dinner. Angst ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt, "come home with me."

Bedelia reheats a leftover tuna steak and pairs it with a small endive salad and a glass of dry sauvignon blanc. She can barely taste her food and the crisp apple notes of the wine go unappreciated by her palate. Her usual weeknight dinner for one has never seemed more lonely. 

After dinner, she tries to read a journal article, but can make no sense of the words or the argument. All she hears in her head is her own foolishness, of Hannibal telling her he reminds her of _his sister_. Television cannot anesthetize her pain, either, and so she goes to bed early. 

She glimpses herself in the mirror as she prepares for bed, her hair still golden and shining and bouncy from the salon. She still smells the soothing rosemary and eucalyptus of the shampoo, the smell she has come to associate with Hannibal. Normally, she loved being able to carry his scent with her after she left, a reminder of him and the spark they shared. Tonight it is just an unwelcome memento of her own weakness. She steps inside the shower and turns the heat up to scalding, vigorously rinsing out all evidence of him, ruining the style that Hannibal had spent hours meticulously crafting. Her hair will hang limp and dull tomorrow, but tonight she is too angry to care. 

After the lights are out and she has slipped in to her cold and empty bed, Bedelia finally lets herself cry and imagines for a moment the evening that might have been. 

An evening where Hannibal said _yes_  and met her for dinner at her favorite French bistro. She would have gone home to change and greeted him in a slinky red cocktail dress that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Between the appetizer and the main course, his hand would have brushed her arm, her knee. When dinner was over, she would have pressed her body against his and whispered _Come home with me._

And with that twinkle in his eyes, he would have possessed her mouth, sealing his intentions with a kiss. _Yes_.  


	3. reunion cuddle

The blue lights of the runway seem to glow in a starry welcome and the jostle as the plane’s wheels bump against the tarmac makes Bedelia’s heart skip. It had only been three days, but she’s never been more happy to be home.

Normally, a weekend conference in Puerto Rico in the middle of January would hardly be considered a hardship, but the island’s warm breezes and blue waters had left her cold. As her colleagues droned on about their research, she found herself homesick for grey and dreary Baltimore and the man who waited for her there. She and Hannibal had barely been together for a month, but this had been their first weekend apart.

“I miss you,” she would tell him on the phone every evening, shocked to hear the naked longing in her voice.

“I miss you, too,” his warm voice would echo back. “Soon we will make plans to go away together. Some place warm, I think.”

“Oh?”

“I must confess, Doctor, I have these recurring fantasies of you on a large white sand beach in a very tiny bikini,” he had teased.

“Do tell me more, Hannibal, about these fantasies of yours…”

Bedelia smiles secretly to herself at the memory, hoping her fellow first class passengers will not catch the blush that has come to her cheeks. She checks her watch; it’s nearly nine. It will be too late by the time she gets home to see Hannibal, since they both have work in the morning. But enough time for a chat before bed.

She makes her way in a dreamy haze through the terminal, a state of mind that has become more frequent, her thoughts rose-tinted and candy pink with anticipation of being reunited with the man she can honestly say she loves. Not having checked a bag, Bedelia is able to bypass the crowd at the baggage claim and head straight for the taxi stand. As she is about to call an Uber on her phone, she catches something strange out of the corner of her eye, a man holding a typewritten sign with DU MAURIER printed in block capitals.

The sign obscures the man’s face, but as she draws closer, he drops it. It’s Hannibal, his eyes twinkling and lips spreading into a broad smile.

She smiles back. Joy bubbles up from within her; she walks toward him on a cloud of frothy meringue. “What a pleasant surprise. My own personal chauffeur.”

His smile deepens. “I couldn’t wait another day.” He spreads his arms wide and she goes to him. They hold fast to each other in a tight and fierce hug, like they don’t want to ever let the other go. For good measure, he picks her up and spins her around. To her own surprise, she just laughs.

They all but run out of the terminal, arm in arm. The parking lot is full of grey, drippy mist, but Bedelia feels warmed by something brighter than the sun.


End file.
